


Brighter than a Thousand Sunrises

by feverfooted



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:19:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7936255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverfooted/pseuds/feverfooted





	Brighter than a Thousand Sunrises

Simon wasn’t a morning person. He preferred the night hours, when the world was quiet and still. Besides, he was always horribly tired in the morning, and he tried to avoid that at all costs. 

This morning was different. 

Simon woke slowly, at first not quite sure what had eased him from the dense fog of sleep. Instinctively he stretched an arm into the space on the opposite side of the bed, where Baz slept. 

It was empty. 

This realization was like a shot of espresso, snapping his heavy eyelids open, lifting him into an upright position. He scanned the room. It was dark, but not dark enough for nighttime. A glance at the clock beside their bed gave him an exact time: 4:57 am. 

The room was mostly tidy, save for Simon’s clothes on the floor from yesterday. Baz was a bit of a neat freak, and Simon always tried to respect that, but there were moments when he slipped up. 

Simon ran a hand through his hair, his fingers snagging on the tangled curls. Focus, he thought. He shouldn’t be thinking about keeping the bedroom tidy. Not when Baz was missing. 

No, not missing, Simon reasoned. He’s fine. Probably. He’s just not…here.

Which was an oddity unto itself. Baz loved waking up next to Simon. He had said so himself. So why wasn’t he here?

Simon trailed his fingers over Baz’s empty spot on the bed, feeling the faintest traces of warmth. He must have left recently. 

Simon pushed the covers aside, climbing out of bed and pulling on a jacket. He didn’t bother to change out of his pajamas. Instead, he slipped on a pair of tennis shoes. Before he left the apartment he checked each room to make sure that Baz wasn’t there—how embarrassing, that would be—taking note of the empty violin case in the living room. 

Where was Baz?

Simon left, walking down the street as dawn continued to unfold, the curtain of nightfall retreating by the minute. He took a deep breath, hands in his pockets, relishing the crisp morning air. Now that he was awake, on the move, it wasn’t so bad. He could see why people liked getting up early. There was something special in the air, almost like the city was holding its breath, waiting for its inhabitants to wake up. 

At this hour, anything was possible. 

At this hour, the city was shrouded in mystery, stories waiting to be told lingering like early-morning mist. 

Simon had walked several blocks when he heard it—

The wavering, telltale notes coaxed from the strings of a violin. 

Baz’s violin.

He walked faster, following the sound into a nearby park. Dawn was spilling forth quicker now, the trees towering on either side of him lighting up in pinks and golds. Simon didn’t stop to admire the view. He broke into a jog as the music grew louder and louder…

There he was. 

A silhouette, framed by golden sunshine. He stood in the center of a small clearing, playing his violin intently, swaying with each stroke of the bow. 

Simon found himself holding his breath, stock-still as he watched Baz. 

All too soon the song was ending, the melody fading as the sky continued to brighten, until the greenery around them appeared to be painted in liquid sunshine. 

“That was beautiful,” said Simon in hushed tones. 

Baz jumped as if he’d been electrocuted, whipping around with a speed that was almost frightening. He visibly relaxed when he saw that it was Simon. 

“God, Snow, you startled me,” he said, though he looked rather pleased that Simon had found him. He set his violin down softly in the bed of grass that sprouted around his feet. 

Simon closed the gap and hugged him tightly. 

“I was worried,” said Simon. “You didn’t leave a note or anything…”

“I’m sorry, love,” said Baz, burying his face in Simon’s curls. 

They stood there for some time, in the empty, quiet park. The sun continued it’s ascent into the sky overhead, scattering shadows over the pair, illuminating them in a patchwork of dappled hues. 

“Why did you come here?” said Simon at last when they pulled away from each other, though remaining close enough to touch. 

Baz smiled gently, rubbing his thumb along Simon’s jawline. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“You could have woken me up.”

“You’re not a morning person,” said Baz. 

“Well, I’m here anyway,” said Simon pointedly. 

“I guess that’s true,” said Baz after a moment of consideration. He pressed a kiss to Simon’s cheek, soft as the verdant moss that grew around them. 

“Will you play a song for me?” said Simon. 

Baz regarded him in silence for a moment before nodding. He bent to pick up his violin, twirling the bow between his fingers elegantly. 

“Anything for you, my dear,” he said. 

Simon took a seat on the grass, leaning back on his hands as he watched Baz play, smiling wider with each and every note.   
And in that moment, Simon felt brighter than a thousand sunrises.


End file.
